


Hiddlins o' Husbandry

by acquiredsight



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, The Tiffany Aching Series - Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/M, Nac Mac Feegle - Freeform, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 14:30:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8987659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acquiredsight/pseuds/acquiredsight
Summary: Rob tries to help his wife by scheming. It goes about as well as you might expect.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shewhoguards](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewhoguards/gifts).



> Dear shewhoguards: Happy Yuletide! I had a really fun time writing this story, and I loved your prompt. Enjoy :)

“And how are the little ones doing?” Tiffany asked.

  


“Ooh, bigger every day. You know how it is - they’re little terrors, all of them. Take after their father, they do!”

  


Rob Anybody, from his position within the Feegle mound, swelled with pride. Of course, he probably shouldn’t have been eavesdropping on a conversation between the big wee hag and the kelda,  _ but surely _ , he thought,  _ they would nae ha’ their talk oot in the open if they didna want anyone tae hear it _ ?

  


This line of reasoning completely ignored the fact that, since the mound was in the midst of a somewhat disorganized expansion, and since Tiffany had grown somewhat larger, outside was the only place they  _ could  _ talk. 

  


Above, Jeannie continued to speak. “But let me tell ye, Tiffany, I grow quite weary of having them. It’s not the labor; you know that’s easy enough, with the sprogs being only the size of a pea. But carrying them, being pregnant all the time? It’s tiring on a body. My feet swell ‘til I can barely walk, and during the last month I feel like I’ve done naught but eat! If I’m not pregnant now,” she confided, “ I expect I soon will be.”

  


Tiffany hummed and asked, “How often do you get pregnant? Can you take any time to rest in between? Also, I can make a salve to help with the feet. ”

  


Jeannie sighed. “I suppose I  _ could _ . A kelda is most always pregnant, you know, and it only takes three months to have them once we’ve,” she continued meaningfully, “done the deed. Any help would be a blessing, though.”

  


Rob had heard enough. Quietly, he crept away.

  


-

  


“And soo,” Rob exclaimed drunkenly, “I willna get her prrregnant!”

  


“How wi’ ye do  _ tha’ _ , Rob?” This was Daft Wullie. “Can ye jus’ ask yer,” he gestured expressively downward, “tae stop?” 

  


The rest of the present Feegles (which was only a handful, for reasons of secrecy) leaned forward, clearly very interested in the answer to this question.

  


“No, ye great lummox!” Rob cried. “But I cannae go tae her bed. I’ll...I’ll....” he trailed off.

  


“Wha’ aboot if we had a speshhhul missssion? The two o’ ye cannae make babies if one o’ ye is nae here!” 

  


Rob pointed triumphantly to Big Yan. “Perrrrfect, Yan! A mission! Oot wi’ ye, scunners, I need tae think!”

  


When he decided he was done thinking, he went to see his wife, and began to spin for her a wonderful tale, about how the snails they’d been breeding just weren’t  _ tasty _ enough, but that there were plenty of gardens at the Baron’s house, and perhaps, no,  _ surely, _ there were snails there that wouldn’t be missed! It would be good to get new stock in the breeding lines; Tiffany had told him all about how the Bigjobs did it with sheep!

  


“And so,” said Rob, “tha’ is why we wuz thinkin we could go tae see the Baron.” Rob shifted a bit, waiting for the kelda’s verdict. He thought that had been a pretty good Explanation indeed. From behind Jeannie, Billy Bigchin smiled encouragingly.

  


Jeannie hid her smile behind a thoughtful expression and said seriously, “Go on, then, Rob. But no drinkin’, fightin’ or stealin’!” The listening Feegles gasped and Jeannie sighed. “Oh, all right, you lot. Perhaps a wee bit o’ drinkin’.”

  


-

  


The only problem with this plan was that it took the Feegles barely eight minutes to run to the castle, and even with drinking and other mischief thrown in, Rob could not imagine spending more than a day searching for snails. 

  


And so it was that Rob spent his days scheming, and his nights avoiding his wife. This state of affairs lasted for a full month, during which Jeannie listened to ever more far-fetched excuses for why Rob could not, in fact, come to bed that night: 

  


“I cannae find me kilt, Jeannie, one o’ them ships took it!”

  


“Oh, ah’m so verra sore from carryin’ that coo yesterday…”

  


“Daft Wullie got hisself stuck up a tree, and Big Yan, y’see, he’s scared o’ heights…” 

  


“The herd o’ snails ha’ stampeded! Nearly Big Angus wuz terribly hurt and cannae go after them, but I willnae rest ‘til evvvery last one o’ the scuggans is back in the pen!”

  


And so on. At first Jeannie bore the explanations with grace (only a few Feegles were moved to tears by the Pursin’ o’ the Lips), but as his excuses stacked up, even Rob began to falter.

  


After his most recent (“Ah’m teaching Littlest Jack how to read! Mebbe he is only two month old, but it’s ne’er tae early tae start!), Rob threw himself into the room where he and his conspirators met. 

  


“Waily, waily, this cannae gae on much longer!”

  


“Ye ought tae tell her, Rob. Yer jus’ tryin tae help, after all.” 

  


“Billy Bigchin, ye dinna ken the hiddlins o’ husbandry! I’ve told ye before, she cannae know. She’ll kill me, she will! Ye’ve all promised that ye’ll never, ever tell--WHAT, Daft Wullie?” 

  


Daft Wullie was staring at Rob, wide-eyed, shaking his head so hard it looked like it might fly off. Rob opened his mouth to yell, but then he heard it: from behind him, a small sound that could only be--

  


“The Tappin’ o’ the Feets!” cried the collected Feegles, “Ooohhhh noooo!”

  


“Oh, hush, you Feegles!” said Jeannie. “Get oot, now, and take yer bottles with ye!” Snagging Rob by the kilt as he attempted to blend in with his fleeing brothers, she said, “ _ Not you,  _ Rob Anybody. You can stay right where ye are!”

  


Rob whimpered. Awfully Wee Billy Bigchin, a single tear rolling down his cheek, gave Rob a mournful look and said, “Ah’m sorry, Rob. It’s time ye dree yer weird.” And then he left Rob there, standing before his wife and kelda, all out of Explanations. They stood quietly, accompanied only by the wails of the retreating Feegles.

  


Finally, Jeannie said, “Weel, Rob? What have ye to say for yourself?”

  


“Ye see,” he began, and then stopped. Jeannie crossed her arms. He flinched and tried again. “It wuz only that…” he gulped. “Oh, kelda, I cannae tell ye!”

  


Jeannie sighed and said, “Let me guess. Ye don’t want to tell me why ye’ve been avoiding sleeping with me at night, so ye’ve invented all manner of strange reasons to stay away. Is that it?” Rob nodded, so she continued. “Now, I’ve gotten that much. But I’ll admit I don’t understand  _ why,  _ Rob. Do I ask too much of ye? Do ye not love me anymore?”

  


This startled Rob into action. “Ye cannae think that, Jeannie! I would do anything for ye!”

  


“How am I supposed to know what to think? Ye willna tell me the truth!” For a moment, all was silent. The whole mound seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. 

  


“The truth, then,” he sighed. “I heard ye talking to the hag o’ the hills. Not that I was eavesdroppin’, mind! I jus’ so happened tae hear it as I wuz, as I wuz checkin’ the pery-meter!” Jeannie turned her face away and closed her eyes, but said nothing. Rob fumbled for more words.

  


“So, ye were sayin’ ye were tired o’ always carryin’ our sprogs. An’ that yer feets were achin’! How’re ye supposed to Tap yer Feets at the boys if they’re hurtin’ ye?” 

  


Jeannie’s shoulders had begun to shake in silent sobs, so he frantically continued: “An’ I know ye dinna take care o’ yerself enough! An’ it was the only way I could think tae keep ye from being wi’ child!”

  


Jeannie turned back toward him, hand covering her eyes. Her lips trembled, but Rob searched for traced of tears and couldn’t find any. “My love? Ah’m verra sorry! I did nae mean to hurt ye, I only wanted tae help!” Finally she dropped her hand, and Rob was relieved to find that indeed, she wasn’t crying. Wait. She wasn’t crying?

  


It was at this point that Jeannie lost the ability to remain stoic and started to giggle. She took one glance at Rob’s wide eyes and doubled over, wheezing and gasping for breath.

  


It dawned on him that she had probably known what was going on the whole time. Feeling indignant, Rob said, “Weel, tha’ is nae verra nice!” But he was so relieved to see Jeannie happy that after a moment he too gave in to laughter.

  


When they had both recovered their breath, Jeannie looked at Rob and said, “I thank ye for tryin’ to help, but husband, ye ken not the hiddlins of a kelda! If I don’t want to have children any longer, there are ways that ye can still come to my bed. But if ye ever lie to me like that again, ye’ll rue the day you were born!” 

  


She held Rob’s eyes until he knew she was serious. Then she said, “Now, take me to bed!”

  


As Rob threw her over his shoulder and trotted off to their room, he wondered what other ways she had. Then he decided he didn’t want to know, and put it out of his mind. 

  
  



End file.
